


Luck and Fate

by Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)



Series: With Any Luck [2]
Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Fluff, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yes You! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: You live an average life. You go to work, you eat some food, you watch YouTube and Netflix, you go to bed later than necessary. You sometimes talk with a mildly famous celebrity.





	Luck and Fate

You live an average life. You go to work, you eat some food (sometimes it’s good for you, sometimes less so), you watch YouTube and Netflix, you go to bed later than necessary.

You sometimes talk with a mildly famous celebrity.

It sounds disappointingly like the opening of a cheesy sitcom, and yet…it’s not a cheesy sitcom. Sometimes, you get a DM from Dan Avidan, and you have to pinch yourself before reading it.

You and Dan are…something. You’re hesitant to call it “friendship,” only because you’re not sure if you can actually be friends with someone you look up to and admire on a psychological level. But it seems so far that the definition of friendship fits what you two have pretty well. Occasionally, you and Dan will chat for a while, and Dan will give you sneak peeks of new merch, and let you know when the live and NSP show dates are so you can be on time for tickets. He’s so far been cryptic about his music, but you don’t mind that. You’ve always liked surprises.

~

You’re on break at work, sipping a boba tea, when you get an Instagram notification from Dan. You head into your DMs to see Dan has sent you an image.

Message Received: [LINK]

Message Received: What do you think?

Message Sent: Ahhh!! Awesome! I love it! I SO need it!

Message Received: Rad! Glad it has your approval.

Message Sent: Why do you need my approval? You know I’m always down for NSP shit.

Message Received: Maybe I just like stroking my ego. :P

Message Sent: Wow, old man, I’m impressed. Using emojis just like the kids.

Message Received: I’m 100% fluent in emoji, man. Gotta appeal to the demographic.

Message Sent: Which is why Brian handles the NSP twitter and Instagram. Riiiiight.

Message Received: Actually, I wanted to ask you something.

Huh. 

You scratch your head, thinking about what it could be, but before you can respond, he fires off another message.

Message Received: Do you, like…do anything?

You snort. You have a perfect response for this.

Message Sent: Duh. I mean, I’m at work right now.

Message Received: On break? I didn’t wanna bother you.

Message Sent: Yes, I’m on break, dad.

Message Received: Good. 

Message Received: No, but like, I mean...Etsy, or…what’s the other one? Store something.

Message Sent: Storenvy?

Message Received: Yeah! That’s the one!

Message Received: I wanna support the stuff you do, since you support the stuff I do.

You can feel tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You always thought Dan was a sweet guy, but getting confirmation like that is just so…

You definitely pegged Arin as the guy who’s been more focused on outreach. He donates to charity, is known for helping small kickstarters, and backs projects, like Dream Daddy. Dan’s never been particularly loud about supporting causes, which is fine. He has a lot of other things to spend money on, surely. Not everyone can flaunt cash. 

That he wants to spend some of his hard-earned money…supporting you? If you’re not careful, you will actually have to duck into the bathroom, because you are seriously this close to crying at work.

The phone buzzes in your hand.

Message Received: I mean, if you want me to. It’s fine if you’re not a creator, or anything like that.

Message Sent: I stream on Twitch sometimes.

Message Received: What do you stream? When?

You smile broadly to yourself. He seems so excited.

Message Sent: Overwatch, mostly. It’s kinda dumb. I like hacking into games sometimes, looking for Easter eggs, or changing the colors of the player characters, stuff like that.

Message Received: I actually like Overwatch now, lucky for you! Arin converted me.

You can’t help but laugh at that.

Message Sent: You’re definitely fun to watch when you play, omg. The other players must love you.

Message Received: I like watching it, and it’s fun to mess around, but I think I’d be worried about letting my team down if I were playing on my own.

Message Sent: Yeah, I get that.

Message Received: I gotta go in a bit, but do you have a Patreon, or something? Can I do something with that?

Message Sent: Yeah, I’ll link you in a sec. They have tiers and stuff.

Message Received: And it’s private? I’m sorry, it must seem like I’m making such a big deal out of that.

Message Sent: I understand, it’s fine. Yeah, I can make it private. One of the perks of the higher tiers is getting mentioned, but I don’t have to give you a shoutout.

Message Received: That’d be great. Thank you. Sent me the linksies, and I’ll look into it.

Message Sent: I’ll include the google results for “how to Patreon” in the links.

He sent you a picture of his middle finger. You were still laughing as you pasted the link.

Later that night, before you went to sleep, you got a Patreon notification. Dan had selected a middle tier, but he had done it, to his credit. You smiled. You couldn’t believe it. 

As you were making sure everything about his donation would be private, you got a DM.

Message Received: Woo! I figured out Patreon! I know it’s not much, but it’s what I can kinda kick around, you know? Never adult. It costs too much.

Message Sent: I live in a tiny apartment in L.A. that I pay too much for. Trust me, I feel your pain.

You start chewing on your bottom lip, trying to decide whether or not to send what you really want to say…and then decide to just use the fuck-it adjustment in the spirit of things.

Message Sent: Honestly, it just means a lot to me that you’re interested in supporting what I do at all. Thank you.

Message Received: Aww. You’re welcome! Just don’t tell anyone. >:(

Message Sent: No, of course not. I already set your stuff to private, so no one can see that you’re involved.

Message Received: Cool.

And that’s the end of that. You’re kinda used to Dan just dropping out of conversations on a whim…but you’re an introvert who tends to do the same thing, so you understand.

As you get ready for bed, you feel giddy, the excitement settling hard on your chest. 

Dan wants to support your creativity, just like you support his.

If you couldn’t see your bank statements, you would honestly think this was a dream.

~

You can’t help buying yourself a new dress. You don’t have very many middle or higher tier supporters (make that none for the last one), and the little bit of extra income is burning a hole in your pocket.

And the dress is cute, perfect for the mild L.A. weather.

And it’s also blue.

~

Of course, you wear the dress on the stream.

You’re happily playing as your main on Overwatch, having a great time and kicking butt. Your chat isn’t heavily populated, so you can catch the request pretty quickly.

From d.avi: Just popping in! Can you play as Reaper? ;)

“Can I play as Reaper?” You make a silly face. “I’m not good at that class of warriors, but I’ll give it a try!”

You do give it a try…and fail horribly.

At least Dan is entertained.

You can tell because he DMs you a short video of him watching your most epic of fails and laughing hysterically.

The thought that he took time out of his busy schedule to watch you stream, even if it was only for a little while, makes you feel a bit like you’re floating.

~

And then, as if the universe was trying really hard not to lose a dare, things just seem to get more interesting.

You’ve been having a rough few weeks. Work has been insanely busy as L.A. gets a bit more touristy, and people just want that authentic California vegan experience. You haven’t streamed in a while, which never bothered you before, since what you did was just a hobby, but with Dan supporting you, you feel as though the pressure is on, to keep making content.

You’ll have some time tomorrow, since it’s your day off, but you’re having trouble sleeping.

You have an almost-free day tomorrow, and since you spend a lot of your time working, you almost don’t know who you are without it anymore. It’s like the three-day weekend ahead of you…should, reasonably, be exciting. You live in L.A., a couple miles from Disneyland! You could go there and spend a day looking for your favorite princesses. It’s probably even nice enough that you could go to the beach if you wanted. Even if you don’t go swimming, you could eat boardwalk food and soak up the sun! You could try to find someplace haunted and pretend you’re a ghost hunter. 

You’ve always wanted to stream something like that.

But instead you feel…tired, achy, and unmotivated. And you wonder what Dan does when he gets into a rut.

You give up on sleeping (again) and turn the bedside lamp on. Your phone is lit up with a notification. A DM from Dan.

Yeesh. If you knew that you apparently had the ability to summon him just by thinking about him, you probably would’ve tested that out sooner.

But wait…it’s 3AM! What is he doing up?

Message Received: I think a fun pickup line to say would be: “Hey, baby, why don’t you try to pull the sword from my stone?”

Message Received: Get it? Cause my dick’s name is Excalibur?

You start laughing. Apparently, he’s being delirious over DM.

Message Sent: Yeah, but the girl you’re talking to would have to get the reference. Otherwise, it’d be totally lost on her.

Message Received: Aren’t most pick-up lines kinda lost on girls, anyway?

Message Sent: I dunno. I’ve never been on the receiving end of a pick-up line.

Message Received: Really? Why?

Your heart drops into your stomach. That simple question drifts into dangerous waters that you’re not sure you want to enter into. As it is, most of your friends don’t know about your orientation, and you’d rather keep it that way.

Message Sent: It’s…complicated. Can we talk about something else?

Message Received: Yeah, ‘course, sorry. My brain kinda gets away from me at this hour.

Your sigh of relief is palpable, and it slows down your heart rate just a tad. 

Message Sent: If you don’t mind me asking, why ARE you awake?

Message Received: Fuckin insomnia. It couldn’t happen at a worse time, either.

You nod to yourself in understanding. Dan has been more honest with you recently about how he really feels during his low points. You listen and commiserate, but it’s about all you can do. You never really realized before that being a celebrity, even a mildly famous one, could be taxing, mentally and physically.

Message Received: Why’re YOU up?

Message Sent: Same reason. Brain’s being a bit noisy.

Message Received: Ugh, my fingers are tired. 

Message Received: I’m going to show you something, but you have to promise me that you won’t share it.

You raise an eyebrow, but feel the vibrate in your hand before you can voice your concern.

Message Received: Don’t worry. It’s not a dick pic.

You laugh to yourself. You didn’t think that he’d do that to you if he doesn’t even do it to his actual girlfriends, but you’re still curious as to what it could possibly be.

Message Sent: I won’t. I feel like you wouldn’t even entertain the idea if you thought I would, though.  
Message Received: Yeah, true.

The next message is a series of numbers.

Oh.

Dan has just sent you his private number.

You feel lightheaded enough that you could faint, and you actually pinch yourself to check if you’re still alive, not dead or dreaming.

It hurts.

It’s real.

“Holy shit,” you breathe to yourself.

You tap the number and hit the option to call.

“Hi.”

Dan picks up on the first ring. His voice sounds dreamy and sleepy, tone muted, similar to late night episodes of Grumps, only without so much…

Bravado? Showmanship?

There’s something that his unguarded voice distinctly lacks, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You can’t believe that you’re so nervous about this. You’ve literally been in a room with him one-on-one, and had the ability to touch him freely. 

The phone call, however, seems…more intimate. Maybe because of the hour. You’re not sure.

“Hi,” you reply breathlessly.

He laughs. “Sorry, this is weird. My fingers just hurt. I don’t know how to explain it, really. Maybe I have arthritis or something.”

You giggle nervously, but you can’t make your voice work.

“Really?” Dan scolds fondly. “I can’t believe that this is about to turn you into a blushing fangirl.”

“Sorry!” You blurt out, trying to defend yourself. “I—I wasn’t expecting—it’s a lot of trust!”

Dan laughs softly, and when he speaks again, his voice is soothing. “It’s fine. I’m just messin with ya.” You can hear him yawn, deep, like he’d been trying to put it off for a while. “So, you, too, experience the joys of insomnia?”

“No,” you say, curling your knees towards your chest. “I just…I dunno. I have a three-day weekend, and I feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Well,” you sigh, fiddling with the open pant leg of your pajama pants. There’s a thread loose, and you grab on and start to pull on it, to see how long it’ll take you to unravel it. “Work has been kinda busy lately, cause it’s tourist season, and I haven’t had time to myself, really, and I dunno.” You shut your mouth audibly, feeling self-conscious talking about how hard things have been for you, when things have no doubt been ten times harder for him. “Anyway,” you say before he can speak, “it’s not important.”

“[Y/N],” Dan’s voice is firm, but warm, comforting. “If it’s bothering you, then it is important.”

“But,” you protest, “I mean…you have to do, like, ten times my workload.”

“So?” Dan chuckles softly. “Arin does the same amount of work that I do, most of the time more, and I still complain to him! When my friends have shitty days, I can still listen! Just because I overwork myself doesn’t mean you have to, too, to feel validated.” You can hear him shifting around, and you get a sudden mental image of him sitting in bed…which immediately makes you blush, even though that image doesn’t have anything particularly embarrassing about it. “Okay?”

You tug on the string and it rips off your pant leg. You discard it over the side of your bed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dan says. You start to giggle. “What?”

“We sound like The Fault in Our Stars.”

“What is that?”

“Really, Dan? The John Green book? About the kids with cancer?”

“Who?”

You groan, and he laughs down the line.

“There’s a famous quote,” you explain, “that’s just the characters going: “Okay? Okay.” to each other.”

“Ah.” Dan draws out the consonant, and you can hear him shifting about. He must have you on speaker phone. “I kinda remember seeing that on tee shirts at Hot Topic, but I didn’t get it.”

“It’s kinda…not for your demographic.”

“Mm. But good books are for every demographic.”

“You do have a point there.”

“But you feel better?” Dan asks.

“I guess,” you reply. “I’m just…in a rut, I guess.”

“Ohh, yeah,” Dan hums. “Those suck.”

“What do you do? To keep motivated?” You ask, before you can bite your tongue.

“Hmmm,” Dan sounds like he might be stretching. “Well, I go to therapy, which helps. But once I kinda figure out what’s going on inside my head, I have the enemy pinpointed, so I can kinda say to myself, like: “Okay, so this thing is really bugging me, but I can pick it apart and try to fix it, or at least tell myself that this can be fixed, and then I can get back to work.” But it helps to love what you do, and…I do.”

“Okay,” you say agreeably, “I guess I can try that.”

“And if that doesn’t work for you, talking about it in general can really help. If I can, I’m willing to listen.” 

The offer is so nonchalant that you almost miss it.

“Wait…what?”

“I’m not reliable. Like, at all,” Dan adds. “I’m busy a lot of the time, and I do have to take time for myself away from technology, and stuff like that. But don’t be scared to talk to me about shit.” He chuckles. “I can’t be there for everyone, but it helps me to help you, even in a small way.”

“That’s…wow…” You bite back a small sob, choking up again. “I…wow…I just…I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dan replies, his voice easy. “It can feel really lonely in your head, when your thoughts are all around you and you don’t know which ones you should listen to. But you’re not alone. Okay? Please don’t cry.” He sounds a bit watery himself. “I’m gonna cry!”

“No, no!” You say, wiping your eyes. “Don’t cry! Oh gosh!”

Dan chuckles down the line. His words have wormed their way into your heart, and you do, somehow, feel better. Lighter. Like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“But,” he says, and you freeze, “this…I’m trusting you, okay? This is my private number.” His tone is harsh, and for good reason.

It still makes you panic a little bit. “Y-yeah, I’d never spread that around…I’m not like that.”

“Good,” Dan says, sounding more relaxed. “Can I ask where you work?”

You rattle off the name of the place.

“Oh, rad!” Dan exclaims. “I know where that is! I’ve seen it a hundred times. Is the food any good?”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply. “It’s vegan, but…it’s so good. You wouldn’t even know it wasn’t vegan.”

“I can’t believe it’s not bacon?” Dan jokes.

You laugh. “Something like that, yeah.”

“I’ll have to try it some time, then. Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

You blush, curling up further. “Hah…maybe.”

Dan groans. “I want Skittles.” You laugh again. “No, really! I have, like, a lifetime supply of Skittles at this point. I had to weed through them to get rid of expired ones recently, and oh man.” He whines. “I’m trying to be healthy, but it’s so fucking hard.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say. “I feel like the food at work keeps me semi-healthy, otherwise, I’d probably live exclusively off of junk food.”

“Mm,” Dan agrees. “Thai food is fucking amazing. Mmm…chicken satay…”

You giggle, as he’s clearly daydreaming about food. You don’t care for Thai food, but you can at least relate to the struggle. “I’m like that with mozzarella sticks. I always crave those.”

“Those are good, too,” Dan replies. “Fuck. I’m actually hungry now. I should go make some tea.”

“Mm,” you say, yawning. “Tea’d be nice…but I’m too lazy to get up.”

Dan chuckles, and then grunts as he presumably gets off his bed. “I’d totally make you a cup if I could, like, teleport tea cups.”

“That sounds like a British electronica band,” you say, pulling the covers over your knees.

Dan laughs. “Teleport Tea Cups? I’d listen to them.”

You smile, trying to lie down without jostling the phone too much. “I bet their songs are all named after—” you interrupt yourself with a yawn, “—fancy teas and shit.”

“Gettin sleepy?” Dan teases.

You chuckle. “Yeah, a little.”

“You want me to talk for a bit?”

“I can let you go,” you say quickly.

“It’s fine,” he says. You can faintly hear cabinets being opened, drinkware clattering around. “Makes me feel a little less lonely sometimes.”

“Mmkay,” you say. “How was your day, then?”

You put your phone on speaker and set it up next to your face as you turn off your desk lamp. You close your eyes, listening to him tell you about his day, what he’ll be doing tomorrow.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you do remember Dan gently saying, “Goodnight, [Y/N]” like it was right in your ear.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't play Overwatch. At all. So I hope I did kind of okay. I also don't know anything about Patreon. lol
> 
> There will probably be a part 3. Because I love you guys.


End file.
